The Dirt and the Dust
by Lady Spezz
Summary: She wasn't expecting the embrace, even though some part of her hoped for it, the ever-present desperate longing she suppressed with the rest of her emotions. But here, in his temporary quarters, with his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking torso, it overflowed and she embarrassingly sobbed into his t-shirt. Post-Heroes SamxJack. Mature Situations.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

It had really just been a slip, more than anything else. Just a momentary lapse in judgement.

She wasn't expecting the embrace, even though some part of her hoped for it, the ever-present desperate longing she suppressed with the rest of her emotions. But here, in his temporary quarters, with his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking torso, it overflowed from its repression and she embarrassingly sobbed into his t-shirt.

How, after all these years, was she expected to keep it in? That memory of him falling onto his back in the dirt and the dust, his baseball cap flying from his head as he lay still. So close to dead it still brought back a fresh wave of sobs from her chest. She could hear the staff weapon blast echoing in her ears.

She was such a mess. Such a god awful mess.

Her hands lay tightly on the back of his neck, the skin there rough from the sun and wind, and she could feel his breath on her throat, the brief touch of his lips as he hugged her closer. He smelled like salt. She sighed a ragged exhale, the air catching against the tears and spit still threatening in her mouth.

His head had shifted back a fraction and she still wasn't sure who had moved first. All she knew was that his lips were on hers, soft and forgiving, his hands shifting from her shoulders to cupping her head, palms against the back of her jaw. The kiss didn't last long, a few seconds at most, but she felt the tears dry up in her lungs as he pulled back. He regarded her for a minute, dark eyes calculated and too close to brooding. There was no regret, just immense pain.

Janet.

Janet was dead and she was throwing her career away.

His right palm slid to cup her chin, his thumb resting on her lower lip as he wiped away any trace that he was there. With a quirk of his eyebrow that was more reflex than habit, he dropped his hands, taking a step back. He didn't say anything as he lowered his gaze to move past her, giving her one last quick glance before he left the room.

They never spoke of it.


	2. One

**One**

The sun was warm, the air was cool, and though the bottle in her hand wasn't her preferred type of beer, it tasted better than she thought it would. Of course, the company wasn't too bad either. The Colonel - General - she still had to correct herself, was stretched out in his lawn chair beside her, looking relatively smug.

She set down her bottle and picked up the fishing rod that the General had designated hers. The lure was already attached so she crossed one leg over the other and cast it across the pond. It landed with a delightful plunk several metres out. She smiled at the sun shining across the water as she reeled the line back in. Happiness settled on her shoulders like a warm blanket after a cold walk.

"This is great," she remarked, glancing over at the General.

He turned his eyes up at her and smirked, corners of his mouth lifting at her own surprised smile. "I told ya," he teased lightly, his mouth widening into a shit-eating grin. She scoffed, looking back out at her bobber as it sped towards her.

"I can't believe we didn't do this years ago," she added, turning her face up once again to the sun.

"Yes, well, let's not dwell…" the General faded off momentarily and she looked over at him. She really did prefer him with the silver in his hair. He looked almost the same as he had those eight years ago she had walked into the briefing room with a million things to prove. The lines around his mouth were a little deeper, and the stress had added some darkness to his gaze, but with that cap on his head, you'd never know he was eight years older.

He gives her that eyebrow quirk and she laughs softly, biting back the 'yes, Sir' that comes so easily to her lips. As her bobber comes out of the water, with no fish in tow, she has a fleeting sensation in the back of her mind. But then a fish jumps in the water in front of their perch and she blinks.

"Didn't that tape say there were no fish in your pond?" she asks, partly confused, but mostly suspicious. There's a beat as she hears Daniel and Teal'c setting up chairs on the lawn behind them. She looks over at the General as he looks over at her.

"Close enough," he replies with a hint of exasperation. She half-rolls her eyes, trying to hide her smile as she glances over her shoulder to acknowledge her teammates' presence. The General brings his fishing rod back and casts the line far out towards the other edge of the pond.

"T, grab me a beer, would ya?" he calls over his shoulder. Sam can practically feel Teal'c's eyebrow rise, but within a second he is behind them, handing a brown bottle over the General's shoulder.

"I apologize it is not chilled, O'Neill," he deadpans, but she can detect the tease in Teal'c's deep voice.

"Not a problem," the General replies with mock affluence. He salutes Teal'c with the bottle before taking a large gulp. He leans over between them to set it on the dock, balancing his reel between his knees.

"Colonel Carter, would you care for some refreshment?" Teal'c asks her and she smiles up at him.

"No thanks, Teal'c, I'm all-_Sir_!" she yelps as the General's beer bottle collides with her own. He has been watching her, instead of where he's aiming his drink.

"What! Oh, dammit!" he complains loudly as he scrambles in his chair to prevent both bottles from falling, but dropping his rod in the process. It cascades across the wood dock and rolls into the water. Sam looks down at both bottles spilling beer, the liquid foaming through the cracks. She giggles and the General raises dark eyes at her.

"Ah!" he reprimands, raising a finger.

She closes her lips with the aid of her fingers, hiding her smile. "Sorry, Sir."

Annoyance flashes over his features, but he glances down as he rights both bottles. He picks his own back up and drains the last few drops. He doesn't look at her, though his fishing rod floats hopefully right in front of them. She knows she's created tension by using his honorific in this relaxed setting. It's just habit, so sue her.

She clears her throat awkwardly, casting her line out again as the General picks at the paper label on his now-empty beer bottle. Teal'c speaks suddenly behind them, startling them both.

"May I offer you both another refreshment?" he asks pointedly, as if looking for an excuse to leave.

The General picks at another corner of the label. Sam keeps her eyes trained on her bobber. No one speaks, but Teal'c has already retreated to his safe spot on the grass. Sam sighs, chewing on her lower lip. She notes, with a bit of irritation, that there are clouds looming on the horizon, about to block the sun. It will effectively end their fishing, the sun the only thing between them and the cold north wind threatening the trees.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," the General complains suddenly, pushing himself off his chair to retrieve his fallen rod. He lifts his shirt and uses the material near the hem to dry off the handle. She keeps her gaze away from the brief glimpse of his tanned stomach.

She should say something. Crack a joke. Anything to bring them back to moments before.

She tightens her grip on the fishing rod, frowning at its sudden insistence that it pull out of her hands. The General is still moodily drawing his line back in, lips pursed and eyebrows frowning. She nearly falls into the pond as her line gives a violent jerk.

"Sir!" she shrieks, and he looks up abruptly as if expecting the next Goa'uld terror to be attacking.

"What?!" he demands, mouth open slightly at her in irritation.

"Something…" she is pulled off her chair as her line tugs sharply again. The pond suddenly seems ominous as she skids to the edge of the dock, her sneakers not providing much grip on the worn wood. The General grabs her around the waist before she can take a nosedive into the water.

"You've gotta bite, Carter!" he whoops excitedly. "Pull it in!"

"I'm trying!" she grits through clenched teeth, her rod jerking violently again. The General keeps her rooted solidly on the dock with one hand tight on her waist and the other turning the reel's crank as she holds onto the handle with both hands. She can see a ripple on the water's surface and the brief emergence of a very large trout. It struggles against the line and the General pulls them back a step as he slowly brings the fish closer.

"Hey, T, Danny Boy! We got dinner!" the General yells, his face caught between a wide grin and a grimace as the fish gives him a considerable fight. "C'mon, you little bastard," he mutters as the fish flops across the water's surface. Finally, or maybe too soon, the fish has flopped onto the dock and is writhing helplessly. The General drops Sam's waist without ceremony, pulling a hunting knife from his back pocket and giving the fish a hard swift crack on its head with the handle. It immediately goes still.

The General takes the lure off and hooks his fingers through the fish's mouth, lifting it up. He looks back at Sam, eyebrows raised. "Nice job, Carter," he says, feigning surprise. "Thought you never fished before."

"I haven't…" she blinks, giving him a small shrug. "Beginner's luck."

"I'd say. This guy's probably… 15 pounds, give or take." He takes a step toward her and Sam takes a step back, eyes on the dead fish hanging from his hand. He tilts his head.

"You're not afraid of a little fish, are you, Carter?" he asks, looking amused.

"N-no," she replies, swallowing heavily.

"It's just a fish, Carter." He points to the fish gaping openingly in her direction. "How could you be afraid?" He starts to push it towards her and she shrieks again.

"Don't touch me with that!" she yelps, bringing her arms up in front of her face. "You know I don't do dead fish. Give it to me on a plate, sauteed in butter!" She laughs nervously as the General waggles the fish at her and she tries to turn to run, but he's grabbed her around the waist.

"Carter!" he commands. "Carter." His voice is softer and she abruptly stops squirming. His face is close, so close she can see the clean line in his eyebrow where the scar separates it. She can smell the beer on his breath and… the fish in his hands. Oh, God. His hand is so low against the small of her back. He looks at her sternly, but his lips lifting in amusement. "Carter, if you call me Sir one more time, I'm gonna smack you with this." He brandishes their catch at her and she shrinks back slightly.

"Okay, Gen-"

"Ah!" he interrupts. "Don't even think about it." His eyebrows are in danger of staying permanently etched in his upper forehead. He gestures to himself with the fish, accidentally smacking his t-shirt with it, leaving a bit of slime and pond scum on the material. "Jack."

"But-"

"Carter," he repeats, somehow managing to sound patient and desperately impatient simultaneously. Her gaze, in an attempt to avoid his, flickers to his lips, chapped from the wind. There's a growing layer of stubble coating his jaw and neck and she tries not to think about it.

"Jack," she repeats slowly, the word foreign to her lips. "Are you-"

"I'm sure, Carter," he replies before her question is finished. "We're on vacation, for cryin' out loud. Try not to be such a buzzkill."

"Okay… Jack," she finishes with just a hint of curtness.

"Good! See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He gives her a tight-lipped smile before pulling away, exhaling heavily as he looks up at the sky. "Okay, boys!" He turns on his heel with considerable flourish for a man his age. "Turn on the barbeque!"


	3. Two

**Two**

Far too often Daniel is far too observant for his own good. She has seen the way he reads her, understanding when her moods swing foul after a hard day. He knows why she remains chipper after a bit of praise from their CO or an innocent-enough touch that they all know isn't so innocent. Jack's fingers have always lingered a bit too long with his comradely shoulder squeezes, pats on the back, high-fives, even the rare salute. But they all know it would never amount to anything more. Not given their positions. Their working relationship.

Sam tries not to scowl into the flour she's sprinkling across the counter.

Daniel watches her over his glasses as they prep for dinner. Sam keeps her eyes on her biscuit dough as she cuts circles out and places them on a floured pan. The old wood stove sitting in the corner is heating the large room well, but she's a bit wary of baking with it. Through the window she can see … Jack… and Teal'c standing at the barbeque, Teal'c standing silently with his hands clasped behind his back as Jack gestures wildly with the tongs, clearly in the middle of some elaborate story.

She catches Daniel's gaze as she drops the last biscuit onto the pan. "Y'know, if you don't watch it, you're gonna slice a finger off," she says sternly, partly teasing and partly reprimanding.

"Mmhm," is his response, not daring to glance up at her again.

"And don't forget the strawberries," Sam adds impatiently as she walks over to the wood stove and opens the lower oven, sliding the pan inside. Straightening her shoulders, she opens the side door onto the deck. "Hey guys!" she says, her voice a bit too chipper for her own liking. "How's it going?"

Jack turns, giving her a grin, a beer in one hand, and tongs in the other. "Carter! Going well… going well. We'll give the potatoes five, then we'll throw on the fish." He gestures to a large package of aluminum foil. He gives her an expectant look. "How's the salad?"

"Uh, Daniel's working on it. You guys need anything?"

Teal'c gives her an understanding smile. "We do not."

"K." She gives them a brief smile before retreating. Teal'c's eyes stay on her momentarily before he calmly points out to Jack that smoke is billowing out from under the barbeque hood.

"How's it going out there?" Daniel asks as he hears her footsteps walking back into the kitchen. She can hear Jack swearing in the background as he burns his fingers on the metal rack.

"Well, we might be having salad and biscuits with a side of charred barbeque for supper," she laughs, leaning against the counter next to him.

"So same as always then," Daniel says dryly, glancing up at her again over his glasses. He pushes them up his nose with his forearm. "Everything okay, Sam?"

"Yeah." She smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder. He stops chopping almonds to turn to her.

"You sure?"

Sam knows he is referring to earlier, when she and Jack had their little struggle by the pond. "Really," she assures him, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just strange, calling him by his first name." She gives him a grin. "So… do you want some wine? I brought some." She turns to the old refrigerator to find the bottle.

"Uh, sure." Daniel goes back to chopping the almonds and if he had anything else to remark about the incident at the lake, he doesn't voice it. What they could say, or what they couldn't say, more often, was a large part of being in SG-1. And the relationship - or lack thereof - between Sam and Jack was something that was accepted, but never referenced.

She finds a corkscrew in an obscure drawer above the sink and opens the bottle of wine she had taken from her cupboard before the guys had picked her up early yesterday morning. They had spent the day driving north, Jack and Daniel arguing over their radio selection - rock and roll vs talk - until Teal'c had intervened and turned the radio off. There were long lapses of silence, and long discussions of missions and personnel and even Teal'c added to their pool of base gossip. Sam had missed their camaraderie desperately over the past few months. It hadn't been the same after Jack became their General instead of their team leader. Teal'c had placed his hand on her shoulder as if understanding the happy smile on her face, even as Daniel and Jack bickered up front about where to stop to get a quick supper.

She pours Daniel's wine first, then tops up hers. "Cheers," she smiles as Daniel clinks her glass.

"Salad's done," is his reply, showing her the large bowl.

"Good."

"Anything else, Chef?" he teases.

Sam just smiles at him, shaking her head.

* * *

Dinner is surprisingly good. Their potatoes taste a little smokey after the tinfoil casing caught fire, but nobody complains. And her biscuits are slightly burnt on the bottom from the oven variation, but they smother them with butter and applesauce. The best part is the fish, salted with butter and pepper. She's already had seconds.

"Jack, can you pass me a biscuit?" Sam asks, gesturing past him to the wooden bowl covered in a tea towel. The things she had found in the kitchen. It was very evident that at one point a woman had stocked the cabin. Sam tries not to think about her. "Oh, and the butter," she adds, seeing the dish next to him.

"Carter, I'll butter your biscuit anytime," is his response. There is a resounding silence around the table except for Daniel choking on his inhale of wine. She can feel the blush hinting at her cheeks as she raises delicate eyebrows at him.

"Excuse me?"

The General looks a bit helpless, brandishing the bread basket in her general direction. "I just mean…" He sighs. "Take the damn biscuit, Carter."

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink… Jack," she adds, a bit of bite in her voice. But it's a guilty pleasure, calling him by a name that has been off-limits for so long. The back of her mind reminds her that it's still technically off-limits, even with his permission. Before today, she could count on one hand the number of times she's called him by his first name. None of them dignified.

And the number of times he's called her by hers is even less.

She's vaguely aware that she's wincing, so she busies herself with the biscuit. Daniel abruptly changes the topic to the videotape they had found a few days before. She adds a few of her thoughts, but mostly Daniel is on one of his tangents, entertaining all of his opinions aloud more than looking for any contribution. Teal'c has one eyebrow perked.

"Daniel Jackson," he interrupts loudly. "Would you help me cut the dessert?"

"What?" Daniel asks breathlessly, his hands gestured out in front of him, in the midst of venting frustration at being unable to decipher some of the writings on his newest find. "Oh. Right. Okay." He gives Teal'c a suspicious glance over his glasses before he stands to follow him back to the kitchen.

Sam gives her CO a tight smile and he gives her a long side-glance in return. She sighs. "Dinner was great, Sir… sorry, Jack," she quickly corrects herself. She gives him a sheepish shrug. "Old habits."

"Yes, well…." he draws half-heartedly in the vinegar and oil residue left on his plate. "Teal'c took care of the fish." He gives her a painful grimace. "Figured I had done enough damage."

Sam laughs lightly, feeling her shoulders relax again. "You helped catch it. If you weren't there, I guarantee you I'd still be at the bottom of the pond."

Jack gives her a small grin. "You would, wouldn't you?" He reaches over and pats the back of her hand lightly. It's a little bit too innocent. Sam examines him as he takes another drink from his beer bottle. She hesitates, not sure whether she wants to open this particular can of worms. She glances over at the kitchen counter, where Teal'c is instructing Daniel on his desired plating of the dessert he had brought.

"So… that much?" Daniel is asking.

Teal'c gives him an amused, "perhaps a bit less."

Now or never, Sam figured. "Jack, what's going on?" she asks quietly, leaning closer to him.

He gives her one of his looks. Sarcastic annoyance. "What?"

She gestures around the cabin. "Why'd you invite us all here?"

He sighs impatiently. "I've been inviting you all here for the last eight years, Carter." He licks his lower lip and she keeps one eye on Daniel and Teal'c still in the kitchen. She can tell they are close to being finished and will soon return to the table. "It's not my fault you're all too dense to take me up on it."

"No, why now. Why was it so important now?"

He gives her a startlingly cold look. "Drop it, Carter." His eyebrows twitch as he glances into the kitchen.

"But-"

"Drop it. Now." His voice has authority to it, commanding her to shut up. Ordering her. Her shoulders kick back out of habit, out of the training that is ingrained into her mind more than any other set of rules. A 'yes, sir' bubbles in the back of her throat but she swallows it down, her hands clenching in her lap.

"You can't order me around out here, _Jack_," she replies pointedly.

"Oh, but I _so could_," he responds, and not for the first time in the last few minutes, his voice drips with entendre. He hasn't flirted with her this much in years. Definitely before the za'tarc incident. Before they had gone back to pretending everything was fine and nothing had happened. They had both stepped back from their easily toed line after that, keeping their chain of command mostly professional and definitely legal. But suddenly, over the past year they were edging closer to it again. Sam wondered when it had started.

But she knows when. She thinks about it every single day. Janet's post was cooling and they had kissed in that infirmary room. One of the worst days of her life. Her best friend was dead and she had kissed her commanding officer. And not under the influence of any alien technology either. She had shown up on his doorstep later to discuss it, to maybe confess her feelings, convinced she was about to lose him - again - to the Ancient repository. But it hadn't happened, and life carried on with him as General. And with both of them still stuck in their rut. Except the touches grew more frequent, his eyes lingered longer, and her guilt grew worse.

Funny how it had started again just as she had tried to move on with someone else.

His chocolate eyes are burning into her and she feels her gut clench and bloom as blood pools in her lower stomach. His gaze has always told her everything. Every pained emotion, thought, curse, movement. Every order he wanted followed he conveyed to her with a simple glance. She wondered if he could read her just as well as she read him. If he could read her eyes now, still clouded with the loss of her father.

Footsteps approaching forces her to look away as Daniel walks toward them, balancing four plates of chocolate cheesecake. How fitting. She smiles down at it wryly.

"Okay," he says, face frowning as he sets one down at each place. "Teal'c's getting coffee. Sam, tea?"

"No, coffee's fine," she replies, trying to will her arousal away.

"Colonel Carter, are you warm?" Teal'c asks as he regards her, holding a pot of coffee in his large hands. "You are flushed." He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Perhaps we can open a window."

"I'll be fine," she replies quietly, examining her cheesecake as Teal'c pours her a cup of coffee. A thin layer of vanilla between two thick slabs of chocolate, glazed in caramel. "Wow, Teal'c, you made this?"

"Indeed," he responds.

She cranes her neck back to look at him. "I thought you hated… 'bovine lactose'?" She uses her fingers to make air quotes. His face stays stoney but an eyebrow twitches as if tempted to rise.

"I find it quite palatable when combined with the refined supersaturated solution of the sugarcane grass."

"Sugar, T," Jack sighs as he picks up his fork. "It's just called sugar."


	4. Three

**Three**

Sam wondered where she would sleep. They had arrived too late the night before to iron out the details of their week-long stay, so she had slept in the small sunroom to the back of the cabin. She assumed Jack took his usual bed and the remnants of Teal'c and Daniel sleeping in the living room were obvious in the morning. All four of them had crashed hard after the 14-hour drive, so no one complained of their sleeping situation. She knew that would probably change.

The telescope she was configuring was old. But still in half-decent shape. She gathers the material at the hem of her sweater and cleans the lens as best she can before bending down to check the viewfinder.

"Any good views?" a smart voice asks behind her and she jumps, nearly knocking the telescope over. She grabs it, straightening to see Jack behind her. He holds two clay mugs, and a rather self-satisfied smile on his lips. She self-consciously turns to him, well-aware of where his gaze was held as it flickers up to her face.

"Jack," she says breathlessly. "I was just-"

"It's okay, Carter." He waves one of the mugs at her. "That's what it's there for." He steps forward. "Here, brought you a drink."

"Oh." She blinks down at the mug. It smells like lemon. And whiskey. She looks up at him curiously and his eyes twinkle as he lifts his eyebrows.

"Hot toddy."

"Really?" Sam frowns at him. "I never pegged you a hot toddy kind of guy…"

"Too high-brow for me, Carter?" he asks with a bit of feigned hurt. He moves past her to peer down into the telescope. She had focused it on Jupiter, one of the brightest spots in the sky tonight, with the moon in its waning phase.

"Well, that's a bit boring," he remarks as she lets herself glance at his denimed ass. It was only fair, seeing as though he did the same to her just a few seconds ago. He glances over his shoulder at her and she quickly drops her gaze, clearing her throat. "You just gonna stand there? Pull up a chair and we'll look at something more exciting than _Jupiter_."

Sam rolls her eyes at his tone, but pulls the small wicker bench from under the overhang, positioning it behind the telescope. Jack sits down heavily on one side and she claims the other. He swings the telescope to the left slightly, looking for a sight of interest.

"Any requests?" he asks.

"How about P4X-247?" she teases.

He looks over at her. "You gonna stay up until 4 a.m. when it comes into view?" he asks dryly.

"You choose something," Sam laughs. "You're the amateur stargazer." She lightly pokes him in the ribs with the tease and he shooes her offending hand away, still intent on the telescope.

"Ah! Let's see what the ol' Greek is up to tonight." He tilts the scope slightly up and reaches to readjust the mirrors.

"Orion?" Sam asks. "Ooh! Focus it on the nebula."

"That's what I'm doing, Carter," he replies with a bit of impatience.

"Yes, Sir," Sam mutters under her breath. Jack is too busy concentrating to notice or complain. She can hear Daniel inside, clearly half in the bag or more, gesturing wildly as he paces in front of the television, where Teal'c is trying to watch the Fellowship of the Ring. He had watched the Star Wars trilogy until the tape broke, so then moved on to Lord of the Rings, his new favourite films.

Beside her, Jack is cursing the old telescope dials and she smiles as she settles back into the cushion protecting her from the wicker. The sky is clear and the air is calm. "God, it's beautiful out here," Sam sighs, taking a sip from the mug in her hands. She coughs on the alcohol and Jack peers back at her.

"Too hot?" he asks.

"Bit strong," Sam winces, exhaling the alcohol on her breath. She places the mug down on the deck, saving it for when she needs that bravery.

"Yes, well, when you're my age, your tolerance will be practically zilch." Jack leans back beside her, gesturing to the telescope. "Go ahead. Take a peek."

Sam grins, too excited for someone who's flown past the nebula, not just viewed it from 1300 light years away on a dinky 1980s telescope. She leans over Jack's lap to peer down the viewfinder. It is an awkward angle and she has to scoot forward on the bench to see properly. She hesitates briefly before resting one hand on his furthest knee, the other steadying the telescope. The nebula is perfectly framed, crystal clear with an accuracy that even she probably couldn't achieve.

"Wow." She looks back at Jack, who raises his mug to her. "I didn't know you could get such a good shot on this old piece of junk…" she fades off at his raised eyebrows. "Sorry."

"I must admit, I did some… tinkering," he admits after a painful second. He smiles as she relaxes back onto the couch, removing her hand from his knee. It isn't really a couch, more so a loveseat, meant for two. Sam can feel the irony eating at her. They sit in silence, both pretending to watch the sky. She nervously picks at her nails and Jack drinks from his mug a bit too quickly.

Sam can't figure it out. He's giving her every excuse, every opportunity to make a move. He's ordered her to drop the honorific, requested that she call him by his first name, flirted with her at dinner, brought her to a remote location that was suspiciously romantic - although he'd brought Daniel and Teal'c along too. Maybe he was just being nice and she was drastically overthinking it.

She chances a glance at him. He's gazing out past the lake, past the tree line to where the sky slowly revolves around them. His hair is a bit mussed, as if he had run a hand through it and he's squinting a bit, a tell-tale sign that he's thinking heavily about something he doesn't quite understand.

Now or never. Now or ever.

Hadn't she chanted this mantra already once tonight? She bites the inside of her cheek nervously, deciding that now's the right time to need that bravery. She takes a large gulp of the hot toddy, burning her tongue in the process. She inhales slowly, wondering if she's really about to do this. Throw her career away. Everything she worked for.

The sight of her dying father haunts her. _You can still have everything you want._ Oh, God, this is what he meant, wasn't it? Of course it was. Half of the galaxy and all of the alternate universes had seen the soap opera that was the front half of SG-1. Her father was no fool. Then why was she? There will be a time when she can no longer work, when her body gives out and she will be unable to go through the Stargate everyday, or fire a weapon, or hike up a mountainside. And then she will be truly, completely, alone.

She places her now empty mug between her knees, and with surely what must be several shots of Jameson now affecting her common sense, she turns to her CO. "Jack." That name sounds so good on her lips and she revels in it as he turns his head to her.

"Hm?" He seems distracted, supporting his head with a hand, his gaze a bit unfocused. She goes for it, almost as if in slow motion, as if her torso were moving through mud instead of pure air. Her hand lands on his neck before he realizes what she's doing and his pupils dialate as her mouth touches his. Her eyes slide closed as her lips slip open. He doesn't hesitate, his hands running under her armpits as he wraps his arms around her back, tugging her closer. The mug rolls out from between her knees and falls onto the wooden deck. His tongue is slick and warm and tastes of the lemon and honey in the drink.

This kiss is different than their last one. Not quite so innocent, perhaps. One of her arms is hooked around his neck as her other fisted in his loose t-shirt. His own hands are hiking up the back of her cardigan, palms pressing heavily against her bare spine, greedily feeling her skin and muscle.

This. This is why she turned down all of his previous invitations to his cabin. To go 'fishing'. She knew it would end in this, and maybe a younger her would've been able to turn down a Colonel, but there's no way an older her can turn down a General. Not after everything they've sacrificed.

Jack's fingers are slipping under her bra clasp, teasing her spine, and she gasps against his mouth as he pulls her forward again. She has to bring her knee up to keep her balance and ends up half in his lap. It would only take a slight shift of her weight to pull herself up, to press herself against him, into him. Her tongue hurts from the effort and she exhales shakily as he drops his mouth to let her catch her breath, burying himself in her neck instead.

"Jack," she breathes, so quietly she isn't sure he can hear her. Her fingers clench in the back of his silver hair, feeling for the heavy chain that secures his dog tags beneath his shirt. He is pushing the clasp of her bra up so the metal hooks release, and she feels her breasts grow heavy as the material holding them down is slackened. She happens to glance up, seeing Daniel standing a few feet away inside the house. He can't see them, the room brightly lit and their bench in the dark, but it startles her. "Sir! Stop. We have to stop."

"Sam." The sound of her name on his breath is better than the kiss that preceded it. Her belly flutters dangerously and she feels flushed, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her breasts ache and she is too aware that she's pressed them up against his chest. But Daniel is still standing there, gazing out past them at some point and it is sobering. She pulls back, shifting away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks at the embarrassment when she has to reach around to refasten her bra. The General looks positively putout at the loss of contact. He reaches out one hand to touch her face, but settles on her neck instead. "I'm being transferred." His eyes glitter in the darkness, unblinking.

She openly gapes at him, unsure if she's heard him right. "W-what?"

"They're promoting me to Major General. I'm getting transferred to Washington."

Sam can feel her world crashing down around her ears. Jack. Gone. 2500 miles away. She wouldn't see him every day. Hear him argue with Daniel, order Walter to shut up, or talk to a Goa'uld system lord with way more sarcasm than any rational person would deem appropriate. They had come so far only to be sent back to square one. There had to be some cosmic tragedy happening around her life.

"Congratulations," she spits out bitterly, pushing his hand away. She jerks her shirt down with anger as she pushes herself off the wicker couch. Jack looks shocked, holding out a hand in protest as she hurries back to the safety of the cabin. She can't care that she's being irrational, selfish even. There's just Jack. 2500 miles away. Her ears are rushing loudly with panic.

"What, are you pissed off-?" he starts, dark eyes incredulous.

"Don't even start with me, _Sir_," she snaps.

"Aw, c'mon, Carter-"

Sam ignores him, slamming the sliding door across. Daniel blinks at her in surprise. "Sam!" Then falters at her expression. "Is… everything alright?" She is dimly aware of the tears starting at her eyes as she pushes past him. Teal'c has risen from his seat with concern while orcs attack hobbits on the screen behind him.


	5. Four

**Four**

The first time she slept with Pete she tried to imagine it was Jack. But his hands were too soft, his kiss wrong, his touch too frantic. All of Pete had felt like a giant lie, something to place distance between her and the Colonel, then General. Maybe someone to be happy with. But she had been so hugely unhappy. After the novelty of a new relationship had worn off, it had all felt like some giant farce. And what made it even worse was that apparently everyone knew it. Her team, her General, even her father.

Sam sighs as she rearranges her pillow, punching some life back into it. Her sleep had been spotty, at best. She had heard Daniel yelling, calling for Jack, thinking she had been sick. He had knocked on the door to the sunroom, at first frantically, and then patiently. She hadn't answered, but she took some level of satisfaction in hearing him chew Jack out, even if he was a little more than drunk. She didn't want them to see her shamefully tearful face.

She had heard the bedroom door down the hall slam a few minutes after that. But the television stayed on and she knew that their sleeping arrangements were making a repeat for the second night.

Sam rolls onto her back as she watches the sky slowly turn from black to blue, the sun rising. As the pink streaks hide the stars, she can no longer stay in bed and sits up. Her shoulders hurt and there are smudges on her pillow from where her mascara and eyeliner had run. She must look a complete disaster. Still dressed in her clothes from the night before, she rises painfully to her feet, her head throbbing.

"Damn," she sighs, grabbing her toiletry bag and a towel. The hall is silent when she peaks her head out and she manages to make it to the bathroom without anyone making her position. The shower is lukewarm and the pressure is awful, so she scrubs her skin and washes her hair quickly.

When she emerges into the main part of the house, Daniel and Teal'c are crashed out in the living room, Daniel on the couch, snoring obnoxiously with one hand thrown over his head, and Teal'c resting calmly on the floor, his blankets still perfectly made around his large body. Sam finds the coffee maker and turns it on. To keep her mind distracted and her hands busy, she starts breakfast. She refuses to think of him.

"Saaaaaaaaam," Daniel's voice groans from the couch. "Sam, it' 6:30."

"So?" she replies, her voice falsely cheerful. "The sun is rising."

"We're on vacationnnnnn."

She chuckles. "Don't be such a baby, Daniel. Do you want coffee? It's ready."

He lifts himself up onto his elbows and blinks at her bleerily. "Yes, please."

She smiles as she hands him the cup. "Drink that. I made it strong for you."

"Thanks."

She turns back to the stovetop, where the blueberry pancakes need flipping.

"Uh, need help?" Daniel asks, rubbing his eyes before sliding his glasses onto his nose.

"Sure. Bacon's on the counter. Aspirin's by the sink." She points to it with her elbow and Daniel sets to his task. They stand in silence for a few minutes, each content on their work. They had always worked well together. Why couldn't she have fallen for Daniel instead? Life would have been so much easier with-

"Sam, what happened?" Daniel interrupts suddenly, his voice very soft, intent on keeping the conversation between them.

"What do you mean?" She has no intent on divulging more information than need be, and keeps her eyes down. If he sees her expression, she'll either blurt it all out, or she won't have to. He reads her almost as well as Jack does.

"Well." Daniel rubs the back of his neck. "It's a bit fuzzy but I remember most of last night. What'd you and Jack argue about?"

"It's stupid," Sam sighs, pouring more pancake batter. "I completely overreacted." While she didn't quite believe that, she knew that she had acted way too irrational for her own liking. Even thinking about her storming into her room made her head ache with embarrassment.

"Overreacted to … what?" Daniel asks slowly and she makes the mistake of looking up at him. His blue eyes are clear, too clear for someone who consumed as much alcohol as he did the night before. She can feel her hands shaking, the thought of Jack moving so far away suddenly flooding her mind again. She had tried to block it out, keep from considering the consequences, but now it rears itself and she feels the fear heavy on her chest.

"He's leaving."

"Oh." Daniel's eyebrows make a sheepish up-down movement and he pokes at the bacon in the cast-iron pan. "That."

Sam can feel her throat constrict. "You _knew_?!" she hisses, her voice catching in a squeak. It feels mutinous.

"Well, he didn't exactly _tell_ me." Daniel gives her a nervous look, a brief smile. "He's not very good at concealing paperwork on his desk."

Sam can't help but smile at that. She flips three of her latest pancakes onto the covered plate and adds more batter to the pan. Teal'c has risen from his spot on the floor and is silently setting the small round table.

A loud clap of hands sounds behind her and she jumps at the intrusion of the quiet. "Mornin', kids!" the General says, a bit too loudly.

"Sir," Sam mutters.

"Jack," Daniel sighs.

"O'Neill," Teal'c rumbles.

"Well, don't sound so damn excited!" Jack complains, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

* * *

Sam does an inventory of the fridge as the dishes get cleaned behind her. Breakfast was mostly silence, Daniel engrossed in a stack of translations he had brought with him, Teal'c eating steadily through the biggest plate of pancakes Sam had ever seen, and her and Jack pointedly avoiding looking at one another.

It was awkward. So awkward. Sam wanted to punch herself for letting it get so bad. Well, at least he was moving away. Far away… Who was she kidding. She'd rather he be close and awkward.

"Colonel Carter, will the contents of the refrigeration device not thaw out if you continue to leave the door open?"

"Huh?" Sam blinks undignifiedly up at Teal'c, who is watching her with a bit of concern. "Oh. Right." She nervously laughs as she shuts the fridge door. There is not much food left, only what they had brought up with them on the drive and some of the nonparishables in the cupboard. "Jack." She turns to where the General is drying the dishes that Daniel washes, his angular face set in a frown as he concentrates.

"Carter." He glances over at her hesitantly.

"We're almost out of food. I wanted to make lasagna tonight, so we need some things. Can I borrow your truck to go into the city?"

Please say yes. Please say yes. She gives him her most innocent smile, but can't help but bite her cheek anyway. He regards her for a second too long, finally looking away to place a glass in the cupboard. "You'll just get lost. We need some propane so… I'll drive."

Sam opens her mouth to remind him that she can find her way through the entire galaxy, let alone backwoods Minnesota, but Daniel clears his throat. He sends her a look and she shuts her mouth in confusion.

"Fine," Sam admits eventually. "Ten minutes."

"I'll be there with bells on," Jack replies, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

Sam is waiting in the passenger seat of the F250 when Jack heads out the backdoor of the cabin and to the truck. She examines her nail beds as she hears him drop something in the back before opening the driver's door and climbing up into the seat. She looks up at him and they exchange a glance.

_Ready?_

_Yes, Sir._

A smile tugs at his lips but he doesn't let it show, settling himself in his seat as he manoeuvres the truck through the woods and onto the gravel road. Sam considers reaching to turn the radio on, but thinks better of it. It's not quite silent in the cab, the engine and the tires providing enough noise to deter conversation.

She was so petty. So selfish. It was only to Washington. It could be worse. It could be on the other side of the universe. Suddenly 2500 miles didn't seem so far. Or they could be court-martialled for gross manipulation of the regulations. Then 2500 miles didn't seem far enough.

"Carter." Jack's voice startles her and she realizes she's biting at her thumbnail. His right fingers have closed over her wrist and gently tugs her hand away from her mouth. "Stop thinking so damn hard." He slips his hand up to cover hers, bringing them down onto the leather seat between them. It's a comforting gesture, and she watches his skin, lightly dotted with age and sun, scars on his knuckles from where he got in too many fights. His hands are bigger than hers, almost comically so.

How often had these hands saved the world? She looks down at their intertwined fingers, feeling a sudden sense of pride. They had saved countless lives, but also taken countless lives. Surely they deserved each other, after everything.


	6. Five

**Five**

The city of St. Cloud was 22 miles north of Jack's cabin, yet it seemed too short a drive to Sam. Though they sat in silence, she couldn't help but lightly stroke the back of his hand with her thumb. It was a simple gesture, but it also evoked painful memories of her father's death just 10 days ago. She wondered if he was out there, somewhere, watching them. She liked to think that he still existed in some form.

"… in thirty minutes? Carter?" Jack clears his throat.

"What?" She blinks, her gaze refocusing on the large parking lot they are sitting in. A large boxstore looms in front of them, some sort of superstore, and streams of people are entering and exiting through the front doors.

The General swallows visibly, his eyes trained on hers in expectation. She has reclaimed her hand and they both sit in her lap. Jack is pointing out the back window.

"… gas and propane."

"Right. I'll be back in thirty minutes." Sam doublechecks her watch before opening her door and hopping out of the truck. She shields her eyes from the sun with her hand as she watches Jack get out his own side. She grins as he grabs the empty propane tank from the truck's bed. "Try not to get into any trouble without me, okay?"

She can't read his eyes as he slides a pair of sunglasses onto his face, but he gives her a light smirk. "Without you, of course not, Carter." He waves her off. "Now go forth. Spend all my money."

Sam holds up her own credit card. "I'm buying."

"Yeah, yeah…" She watches him walk away, a light bounce to his step. He's wearing combat boots with his civies, blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sam laughs, shaking her head before making her way across the parking lot.

Several hundred dollars and twenty-five minutes later, Sam frowns as she walks back to the unoccupied truck, hands aching with the weight of the groceries in her arms. She lifts them up and carefully arranges them in the open truck bed. The sun reflects a harsh glare off the truck's surface and she is forced to shield her eyes again while she looks around for a trace of the General. He is nowhere to be found and her cellphone is sitting back in her makeup bag in the sunroom.

She sighs, leaning against the vehicle and watching the crowds as she waits. The sun is hot and she can feel her face starting to burn, even with the cool spring air. She wipes her hands on her jeans, catching her reflection in the window of the car facing her. 36 years old and she feels as though she's lived five lifetimes. She likes to think she doesn't look as haggard as her reflection shows her. Tired eyes, tired hair, slightly wrinkled clothing. Well, they _are_ in the middle of nowhere and she has had less than four hours sleep. She isn't trying to impress anyone.

When she's not in BDUs, she likes to dress nice. Clothing that asserts her femininity after spending more than half her life in standard-issued black and green. Or blue. But this is Minnesota and she had packed accordingly. Still, it would have been nice to wear a skirt instead of slim-fitting jeans and a v-neck.

"Thought I said thirty minutes," Jack says behind her as he drops the propane tank back in the truck, nearly crushing the groceries in the process. Sam reaches in and pulls them out of harm's way before he tosses a gas can beside the tank. "Been waiting long?"

"Just a little while," Sam smiles back. It feels strangely domestic as he unlocks the Ford and they both climb in. She reaches for her seatbelt but Jack makes no move to start the truck. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and she raises her eyebrows. "Uh… Jack?"

"It's not official yet," he says, wincing a bit as he takes his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose.

Sam stills, but her heart beats heavily in her mouth, pounding in her ears. "What isn't?"

He looks at her with annoyance, as if he doesn't want to actually admit it. "The _transfer_. I haven't accepted it."

"What? But Daniel said the paperwork was on your desk-"

Jack's eyebrows shoot into his forehead. "He did, did he? Damn space monkey. I knew I shouldn't have believed that story about the President's bible-"

Sam blinks at him. "What?"

Jack waves his hand at her in dismissal. "Nothing." He sighs, looking down at the sunglasses in his hands, turning them over and using the hem of his flannel to clean the lens. "Look, Carter. I was planning to retire… again. But if I don't accept this new position, then god-knows-what will be in charge of Homeworld Security, and we all know that nobody else has a damn clue about what's really happening out there." He shakes his finger in the direction of the sky.

Sam can't conceal the surprise on her face. "Retire?"

Jack is silent for a minute and she watches his face for any recognizable emotion, but it's difficult when he keeps his face down. His eyebrows are the only feature that gives anything away. Trepidation. "I'm an old man, Carter."

"You're barely 52 years old-"

"That's old enough," he mutters. "My back hurts, my knees ache in the rain, and frankly, the whole damn thing just _pisses_ me off." He gestures his hands outwards in frustration. "Isn't it time we caught just _one _break?" He turns his gaze to her, and she sees the desperation in his eyes. We. She feels her throat constrict and bites the inside of her cheek with nervousness. They were finally having this conversation.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asks eventually.

"Because we're _so_ good at communicating," Jack replies sarcastically, looking back out the front window. A young woman with two screaming children in tow get into the minivan in front of the truck.

"So we're still breaking regulations," Sam sighs. "If you're my CO."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, _fuck_ the regulations!" Jack snaps, slamming his hands into the steering wheel, causing Sam to jump at his anger. "These are your two options, Carter. Either I retire, stay in Colorado, and the SGC goes to hell in a hand basket, or I don't retire, move to Washington, and some other schmuck gets to listen to your technobabble all damn day." He turns his head to glare at her, brown eyes dark and furious. "But either way, I am no longer your god damn commanding officer."

She gives him an impatient blink. "Is that what last night was about?"

"You kissed me," Jack points out, his voice quiet again.

"Oh, please. You were totally asking for it." Sam finds herself laughing at the memory.

Jack gives her a tight-lipped smile. "Pretty smooth, huh?"

"So smooth." Sam lifts her hand, hesitating for a second before reaching out and placing it on his shoulder. "Take the transfer."

His eyes search hers. She was such a sucker for that dark gaze. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Just make sure we don't get another civilian commander."

Jack gives her a mild salute with two fingers. "I'll try my best, Colonel."


	7. Six

**Six**

She remembered the exact moment she realized she was in love with her commanding officer. She was sure she was going to die in that ice cavern on what she thought was a glacier planet, a thousand light years away from Earth. He was half delirious and his lips were blue from onsetting hypothermia. She had tried everything to save them, but had failed catastrophically. He was dying, and she had failed. And she had realized that she was in love with him. She had almost been relieved to freeze to death rather than live with that humiliation.

Yet, here she was, following Teal'c along a hiking trail that was considerably easier than anything they had walked offworld. Daniel was behind her, chattering excitedly about the native Minnesotan flora and fauna, and Jack picked up the rear, the usual Bugaboo sunglasses covering his eyes. It felt like old times exploring a new planet, just without the heavy packs and automatic weapon strapped around her body. To be honest, she missed the weight of them.

It had been two days since their conversation in the parking lot. Nothing had changed in their relationship. They hadn't exchanged anything but a few light touches since, a squeeze of the shoulder, touch of the elbow, an affectionate mussing of her hair. Not that they had had much time. Daniel, sensing things were about to change, was forcing team-bonding. They had played every board game in the cabin, watched all the cheesy sci-fi in the cabinet, even played beer pong on the kitchen table. She and Teal'c had destroyed Jack and Daniel. And then the old solar panels powering the cabin had blown so she'd spend most of yesterday afternoon up on the roof, tinkering with the inverters.

Jack had tried to catch another fish, but none had bit, so they ate turkey sandwiches for dinner and roasted marshmallows in the back firepit. She had finished the solar repairs and had crawled back into her cot in the sunroom around midnight, sleeping solidly until the smell of coffee had awoken her in the late morning.

They were halfway done the 10-mile hike and while she enjoyed the fresh air and the blood pumping in her lungs, she couldn't help but notice that the General was much less enthusiastic. She paused to let Daniel pass her, too engrossed in describing the latest bird call to notice that she was changing their order, and waited for Jack to look up.

"Colonel," he greets her with a nod of the head.

"General."

"Slowing down, are we?" He gives her a knowing smirk, lightly touching the small of her back as she falls into step beside him.

"You looked bored," Sam teases, dropping her voice, even though Daniel is barely on the planet, and Teal'c hears everything anyway.

"Yes, well, I come out here to drink beer and … chop wood, or something…" He waves his hand around. "Not walk 15 klicks through the damn woods." He swats away a nonexistent bug.

"Oh, c'mon, Jack. It's a gorgeous day. Good company. No threat of impending doom-"

"Don't jinx it," he complains.

"There's not even a ground elevation." Sam gestures around at their path.

"Carter, we are not _all_ on the right side of 40."

She laughs and Jack reaches up to rest his hand briefly on the nape of her neck. They walk along in silence, narrated by Daniel's excited tone and the crunch of their footsteps on the path. It was always clear to Sam that the age difference between her and Jack bothered him a lot. It didn't bother her at all. Sixteen years was not such a large gap. Not at their ages and with their experience.

As if to reassure him, she touches his elbow. He looks down at her hand, gives her a side-glance, but doesn't comment on it. The tree line they pass starts to look familiar and they emerge from the bush at the east side of Jack's property.

"Thank-you!" Jack says , holding his hands out with a mix of cheer and sarcasm. "I need a beer. Carter?"

"Sure."

"Daniel Jackson, perhaps you would like to help me post-process these photos." Teal'c raises an eyebrow as he holds up the DSLR hung around his neck. "I believe I acquired some worthy shots." Daniel, clueless to his motives, excitedly agrees, and Teal'c gives Sam a small smile as they pass to enter the cabin. He was trying his hand at matchmaking, it seemed.

Seeing that Jack is frowning at his cellphone as he walks around the kitchen, Sam heads around the pond to the dock, letting the afternoon sun warm her face as she sits down in the chair that has been deemed hers. She stretches her legs out and closes her eyes. It feels like seconds, but it must be at least 30 minutes judging by the sun in the sky, when she is startled awake by the scraping of the chair beside her.

Jack falls into the seat, holding out a bottle of Guinness for her. She pulls herself up by her elbows, righting herself in the chair. "Thank you."

"Having a little nap?" he teases.

"We are on vacation, Sir."

"Carter." He leans over to glare at her. "You need me to catch another fish to slap you with?"

She chuckles, opening the bottle and taking a short drink. "That's if you can catch one," she sasses back. "If I recall correctly, I'm the only one who's actually caught anything from there." She points to the pond and Jack scoffs. They sit in comfortable silence and once again Sam marvels at how it took them eight years to finally come here.

"Hey, thanks for fixing the solars yesterday."

"You really should upgrade those."

"Yeah…." He looks out at the pond, where the water is still, not a fish in sight. "But then how would I _ever_ get you up here again?" he smirks, eyebrows raised.

Sam shrugs. "You could just ask."

Jack gives her a skeptical glance, but takes a pull off his bottle. Sam looks back at the silent house, where she assumes Daniel and Teal'c are hunched over Daniel's laptop, up to their eyeballs in Photoshop. "So… I saw you on the phone. What was that about?" She leans forward in her chair, knowing that he wouldn't have taken a call out here unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Oh, nothing, really…" Jack waves his bottle around with some vagueness. "I just missed the sound of Walter's voice… so damn much." He gives her a grimace, but continues after a beat. "Seems that Dr. Lee has managed to quarantine the entire base… again."

Sam blanches with alarm, immediately concerned they had been exposed. "Virus?"

"No." Jack sighs. "It seems SG-5 inadvertently brought back a clementine from PCX-173 yesterday." Sam winces, glad for once that she isn't at work. "_And_," Jack continues pointedly, looking out around the pond perimeter as if scouting for enemy troops. "I requested he fax a little completed paperwork over to the old Pentagon."

It takes a minute for it to sink in. "You mean… the paperwork," Sam repeats slowly.

"I'm thinking… oak." Jack brings his palm out in front of him, moving it through the air slowly like the sun tracking across the sky.

"Okay?" Sam asks in confusion, wondering if the 10-mile hike had affected him more than she had originally thought.

Jack turns to her, smirking heavily, one end of his mouth upturned to reveal a flash of teeth. "For my new desk. Oak? Or perhaps Maple."

Sam laughs, suddenly feeling light. Some unforeseen enemy could crash down their door, but it wouldn't ruin the moment. "I think oak is a fine choice." She leans over the small space between their chairs and kisses him on his rough cheek, heavily stubbled from several days without shaving. "Congratulations, Major General."

"Why, thank you, Colonel." He grins wide at her. "C'mere." He switches his beer to his right hand, placing his left on the back of her neck and applying pressure, guiding her face back to his. He's grinning so wide she kisses his teeth, and she breaks out into a loud laugh but manages to close her lips long enough to exchange a chaste kiss with him. His fingers are tight on the base of her skull, not allowing her to pull away, and so she lets him kiss her a little longer.

* * *

The cabin gets eerily silent at night, and Sam is thankful, for the first time, that Daniel snores. Their sleeping arrangements hadn't changed, and his position on the couch is in the optimal location for the sounds to travel through the rest of the house. She keeps the sunroom door open to let the air flow through, a humidity having set in as the sun set.

She sits on the floor by one of the open windows, using the set of mini screwdrivers she found in a kitchen drawer to take apart the wind-up radio that was stubbornly broken. How was she expected to sleep after the events of the day? She could feel the excitement coursing through her, adrenaline still high after the realization that finally - finally! - things were going to be okay. She _could_ have everything she wanted. For the most part, anyway. She'd still have to make do with a new command at the SGC and only seeing the General on weekends, if they were lucky.

"Carter!" The sound of a harsh whisper causes her to drop the battery pack in her hand and she looks up guiltily as Jack glares at her from the doorway. "_What_ are you doing?!"

"I… uh… fixing the radio."

He gives her a look of disbelief, tilting his head to the side. "It's 3:30 in the damn morning!"

Out on the couch, Daniel gives a choked snort before resuming his snore. Jack glances over his shoulder, even though a wall separates the hallway from the living room. Sam grimaces as he looks back down at her, still waiting for an explanation.

"Couldn't sleep," she answers, looking back down at the radio parts.

"Well, maybe it would help if you closed the door," Jack points out as if she were a child. "Block out the concerto coming from the couch." He gives her an eyebrow raise, gesturing over his shoulder to where Daniel and Teal'c sleep. There was a reason nobody wanted to share a tent with him.

Sam chuckles. "It's the allergies, Jack. He's out of antihistamines."

"Ah," Jack replies, the word ringing a bell in his head, but not really remembering what it referred to. "Well, I did warn him we were going to… the woods." He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches her slice open one of the lithium batteries with an exacto knife.

Sam glances up at him when he doesn't move after a few seconds. The wind whistles softly through the open window, ruffling her short hair against her forehead. It raises sudden goosebumps on her exposed shoulders. He is smiling very slightly at her. She gives him a hesitant smile back and he absentmindedly scratches his stomach through his USAF t-shirt.

"So… what are you doing awake?" she asks, snipping a piece of copper wire off the roll she had in her lap.

"Bathroom," Jack admits unabashedly. There are no secrets between their team, having spent many long days cramped in close quarters with one another. Some of which were more embarrassing than others, her being the only female. She nods, intent on her work when Jack sighs. She glances over to see his bare feet walking toward her on the hardwood and his knees buckle as he sits down on the edge of the cot. She feels her belly bloom unexpectantly, suddenly feeling heat in her thighs.

"Sorry you had to sleep here," Jack says after some more minutes of silence, save for her heart pounding in her ears. "This is sort of the junk room."

Sam gives him a wry smile. "I figured." She gestures to the pile of cardboard boxes and broken tools by the dresser. "It's better than the couch, right?" She risks a grin and he manages a small smile in return.

"Right."

She could read his gaze, and he knew it. His shoulders were stiff, expectant, and his dark eyes lingered on her barely covered breasts, having worn her usual loose camisole to sleep. She could see the pulse in his neck, thumping quickly against his adam's apple. She wasn't used to it, the freedom that they could now use. There were so many years of toeing the line. Keep it professional. Don't admit anything to anyone. What was a few more minutes to wait after eight years?

It doesn't take much to break it. His eyes meet hers and their entire past comes crashing down at her. So much pain and loss. So much trust. Love. "Sam," he says softly, as if her name explained everything. But it did, didn't it? She barely realizes that she's on her feet, arms slipping around the General's neck as she kneels on the bed, until she's there. Straddling his lap with a warm thigh on either side of his hips as she settles against him. That familiar smell of him, the salt and the musk that lingers on his skin.

His hands clutch at her ribs, high on her waist as she presses herself into him, feeling the expansion of his lungs, the sharp intake of breath. His tongue doesn't taste like whiskey this time, but of sleep and faintly of toothpaste. She is barely aware that he kicks the sunroom door closed, the wind dying in the room and Daniel's snoring muffled. But now everything else is amplified. The ruffling of her clothing as he grabs at her tank top, the smack of his hand on her upper thigh as his fingers slide up the back of her hamstring and into her running shorts, the light sucking of his lips around her tongue. The sound of her body squirming dangerously as her hips push back and forth to relieve some of the tension coiling in her stomach.

Jack is panting as he slows her movements with one hand, bunching the back of her tank in the other as he pulls the silk over her head. His mouth leaves hers to travel her neck, his hands back to gripping her ribs tightly, positioning her differently, straightening her back out to push her chest forward.

"Oh, God," she can't help the unsteady breath rushing from between her clenched teeth. Her fingers are digging into the back of his neck as he envelopes one breast in his mouth. "Sir…" She barely realizes the word has escaped until she feels the sharp sting of a reprimand on the skin of her upper thigh. Her world disorients as she's slung onto her back, the old cot creaking in protest at its mishandling.

"That's 'yes please, Sir', _Colonel_," Jack breathes against her stomach, his hands separating her legs to either side of him as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and drags them down her hips.

She's dreamed of this.


	8. Seven

**Seven**

Sam had had more lingering fantasies than she would ever admit. To anyone. In a sense, she supposed she broke regulations the very first time she imagined her commanding officer between her legs. Which wasn't very long after she had met him, to be honest. At first it had horrified her. She was too well trained and had worked too hard to fall prey to some military dom-sub bullshit. But as they explored the galaxy, her problems suddenly didn't seem very big. So she learned to live with it.

It bothered her a little that less than two weeks ago, they were each respectively sleeping with another person. Her with Pete, him with that… big-breasted bimbo from the CIA. She glared at the ceiling as she remembered Kerry Johnson. She really shouldn't be jealous, not now that Jack was sleeping heavily on his stomach beside her. She couldn't help but wonder who Pete was sleeping beside now.

Jack's breath suddenly grows shallow and she looks over to see him crack open one eye. They had only been asleep a few hours at most, yet the early morning sun was pouring in through the sunroom. "Carter," Jack winces, blinking blearily at her. He doesn't move his head, but his gaze drops between them, where their bodies are covered by the sheets. "Oh crap, my back hurts." She sees him move one hand under the blankets around to his spine. "I'm too old for that position now."

She giggles softly as she leans in and kisses his mouth. "Should I say I'm sorry?" she whispers.

"Are you?" He raises his eyebrows, though one is hidden by his head plastered onto the pillow.

She grins. "No."

And although her fantasies were often just that, fantasies, most of them had revolved around this one simple scenario. Waking up with him in a cramped bed on their home planet. And though the daydreams of SGC supply closets, or offworld tents with Daniel and Teal'c not two feet away, or the wonderfully smooth briefing table were what she needed when she was alone in her room, this was the fantasy that kept her alive all these years.

"Think they're awake yet?" Jack murmurs as she drops her mouth to his throat, pulling herself closer to his body heat and lightly nuzzling his skin, content to fall back asleep in this position.

"Who?"

"The company in the living room," he replies with exasperation.

Sam opens one eye over the expanse of Jack's tanned shoulder. "I think we probably woke them already. It just depends on whether they fell back asleep."

She feels Jack's face shift as he tries to look at her. "It's not _my_ fault you're a squealer." His fingers tickle the back of her neck lightly, where the freckling starts at the junction of her shoulder. Sam feels herself blush as his hand drops, past her spine, grabbing the flesh of her bottom before hooking her top leg over his. He presses her against him and she inhales sharply at the sensation.

"Sir…" Sometime in the past few hours the honorific had become a habit again. One that he apparently didn't seem to mind while they were underdressed.

"Not a sidearm this time, Colonel," he murmurs into her neck. His fingers had found their way between her legs and she whimpers softly at the touch. Her hips press forward as her leg hikes up higher, providing him easier access. She is still sore from their frantic pace earlier, but his touch is gentle, almost exploratory. Everything happens so easily between them, her body so eager to respond to his hands.

* * *

It is slightly after 9 a.m. when Sam tiptoes into the kitchen to start the coffee. A quick peak to the couch shows Daniel lying there, one arm thrown over his head, and Teal'c next to him on the floor. They are both suspiciously still, considering the hour.

She is too preoccupied measuring the ground coffee beans into the machine to hear Daniel sneak up on her. "So," he says loudly and she jumps, the coffee grounds scattering across the counter. "How'd you sleep?" There's a smugness to his voice and Sam can't bring herself to look up. He knows. He probably heard everything, starting with when she let out that unexpected yelp as Jack had abruptly flipped her onto all fours.

"Good," she manages to get out, willing the flush in her face to diminish. "You?"

"Oh not too bad, not too bad. Had a strange dream, though."

"Yeah?" Sam replies, turning the coffee maker on and walking to the fridge to find the cream. "Maybe you ate something that didn't agree with you." She chances a glance up and immediately regrets it. Daniel is examining her over his glasses, a smile on his lips. She can't help it, starting to laugh as he rushes her. "Daniel, watch it!" she laughs as he grabs her and hugs her. She's glad she showered already as he lifts her into the air in the tight embrace. She latches on, both of them smiling wide as he sets her back on her feet.

"So…" he says, leaning back but his hands still clasped around her upper arms.

"So what?" Sam grins, unable to keep it off her face. She hasn't felt this light in years.

"So… first time, right? Or just first time letting us know about it." He gestures between himself and Teal'c, who is silently pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

Sam's jaw drops at the accusation. "Daniel!"

"What?" he complains, wrapping his arms around his torso, hands tucked under his armpits as he resumes his natural thinking position. "Are we really to expect that after all these years… all the alien influence, death-defying situations, long nights in the tent, that you never had _one_ moment of weakness?"

If someone else was asking, Sam would be insulted. She just rolls her eyes at her friend instead. She knows he means well, that he still doesn't quite understand what he's asking, that if any other eyes were present, they could be court martialled, despite the pending transfer. Even with their breaking the chain of command, the SGC gossips would have plenty to chew on for years to come. Not that they didn't already.

"Is O'Neill not awake yet?" Teal'c asks solemnly. "I was under the impression the biggest fish bite earliest in the morning."

Daniel looks at Teal'c, and Sam can tell he's about to crack another smart remark. "I'll go see what's keeping him," Sam says quickly, giving Daniel her best unimpressed military glare. His eyebrows go up-down in response, loudly taking a slurp from his coffee cup.

Sam takes a quick glance back into the sunroom, but the bed is empty, albeit perfectly made. She recognizes the sharp clean lines of a military make, hospital corners and the new sheets so tight she could probably bounce a rock off it, let alone a quarter. The soiled sheets they used are piled up on the floor. The blush starts again in her stomach.

"Jack?" She heads further down the hall and around the corner. The door to the bedroom had always been closed everytime she passed before. But now it is open. For some reason she's scared to look inside, much less walk inside. It felt like she is intruding on a past life, on the part of his life that he never wanted to discuss. Not his wife. Not his son. Not the sound of the gunshot.

Curiosity killed the cat.

She peeks in anyway.

There is nothing remarkable about the room. There is no shrine to an ex-wife, no piles of children's toys, no traces of a dark man in a dark time. Just simple furniture, old antiques. A large double bed with ornate postings across from a heavy dresser and desk. No pictures, but she can see the hooks on the wall where they used to hang. To her surprise, there's also an old standing sink in one corner, which Jack is currently leaning over, jaw covered in shaving cream, wincing at himself in the mirror as he drags the razor over his cheek.

He notices her standing there in the doorway. "Carter?" he asks expectantly.

"Uh, Jack…"

"Spit it out. I'm in the middle of something here." He gestures to the shaving cream on his face.

Sam laughs softly. "I can see that." She takes a hesitant step into the room and Jack frowns at her as she comes closer. He takes a step back, brandishing the razor like a shield.

"Carter… quit lookin' at me like that," he complains. "You're freakin' me out."

"Sir, if I could just-" Sam grabs the razor from his hand, apologetically. "You're doing it wrong."

"What?" Jack looks at the razor she's taken from him, and then back at her. "Carter, I've been shaving for 40 years-"

"Just-" She pulls the razor away as he tries to grab it back. "Let me do it."

"I'm a grown man, Colonel-" He looks halfway between confused and furious.

"Jack." She places a hand on his arm and he sighs, looking down at her fingers and waving her the go-ahead. Steadying his jaw with her left hand, she turns his face and starts carefully dragging the razor up in one smooth movement. She sees him roll his eyes up to the ceiling. "This used to drive me nuts," she laughs as she brings another swipe carefully up his neck.

"What?" he sighs, almost as if afraid to know the answer.

"Watching you shave. It's a miracle you've never sliced an artery." She's only halfway teasing. Jack gives her an annoyed side-glance, but doesn't reply. She works in silence, rinsing cream off the razor after every swipe. "They heard," she says as she wets a towel and removes the excess from his jaw. Jack gives her a disgruntled sound from his chest as she wipes clean his neck and chin. "Everything, probably…" she adds after a second, throwing the towel into the sink.

Jack grins widely at her, winding one arm around her waist, hand grabbing at the seat of her jeans. "We're all adults here, Carter."

"You might want to tell Daniel that." She lifts a hand and plays with the collar on his shirt. She can hear Daniel laughing from the kitchen and the clink of glasses and cupboards opening. Jack glances at the bed beside them as she presses herself against him, one of his knees bending, his weight shifting to drag his thigh up between her legs. A shock goes through her hips and she lurches forward, the smell of soap filling her lungs. He leans his face into her neck, cheek pressing into her temple.

"Sam, we gotta put this on hold." His words are soft against her ear even as her blood runs cold. Rejection pounds in her throat.

"Of course, Sir." The training in her comes out, bringing walls up, her back straightening, arms dropping as she prepares to shift her weight back out of the General's grasp.

"We were too careless last night." He sighs in her hair, barely noticing that she's rimrod straight, entire body stiff as it tries to snap off a salute. "Might look a bit _too_ suspicious if I knock you up at the same time I request a transfer." Her heartbeat slows. He chuckles against her pulse. Daniel speaks from the kitchen. The toaster beeps.

"What?" Sam breathes. Jack pulls back to look at her, brown eyes on her blue. He frowns at her confusion, his hands suddenly on either side of her face, keeping her steady. She thinks she might pass out.

"I just-" the General fumbles his words. "We should've used protection. Not that I don't… just not right…"

Relief floods through Sam's body. "I have a birth control shot," she rasps, her voice catching.

This seems to catch Jack off guard and his hands drop from her face. "You do?" he asks in disbelief, eyebrows rising. "But who…? Oh." His eyebrows snap back down. "Shanahan."

"Yep." Sam looks down at his chest. "Pete."

They had never really discussed it. The whole Pete Shanahan debacle. She didn't even know how he found out, although she assumed Daniel had opened his mouth again. Everything had happened so quickly. Her father had fallen ill and passed within hours. She had already been struggling with Pete's suffocating attention and the General's apparent relationship with the CIA woman. The humiliation in Jack's backyard still ate at her. Humiliation and fear. Was it really only two weeks ago? That she kissed her father's forehead and let him die?

But they didn't need to discuss it. It only took one glance and Jack knew what the look on her face meant. It was the same expression that flickered over his own features every now and then. She couldn't fathom how it felt to lose a child, and she never asked about Charlie. She had made the mistake, once, of asking about his ex-wife, and he had shut her down without a second thought. Daniel had told her later that Sara had remarried and was living in Denver with her new lawyer husband. She and Jack only spoke a few times a year, if that, but yet he still had her picture in his house. Sam hoped the picture was just for sentimental value.


	9. Eight

**Eight**

The atmosphere was solemn during the drive back to Colorado the next afternoon. Sam stared out the window in the back of the cab as Jack gave Daniel free reign of the truck radio. It was if they knew that something was coming to an end, an end of an era. Jack was leaving the SGC. As the new director of Homeworld Security, he would become far too important to be sent out in the field. They might never leave on another mission together. And because of that, they had all gotten fantastically drunk the night before, save Teal'c. Sam was still nursing the hangover, sunglasses perched on her nose.

After another bottle of wine, and too much bickering about the new galactical state of affairs, they had crashed in the living room. Sam had woken up on one half of the couch, Daniel taking the other and his feet digging into her back. Jack was stretched out in front of the wood stove and Teal'c slept silently in one of the easychairs. They had packed, cleaned, and left before noon and had been driving ever since.

She catches Jack looking at her in the rearview mirror, eyes squinting slightly with the sun. She keeps his gaze for a few seconds until he looks away, back to the road. She was nervous to go back to Colorado. Would everything seem like a bad idea when they were faced with the cold concrete walls of the SGC? Would they call the whole thing off? They had just barely entered Nebraska and she already wished they could go back. Back to where it was safe, with the pond and the woods, and her team laughing and arguing and discussing the secrets of the universe. With Jack's arm around her hips, almost to her thighs, keeping her close even in sleep.

It's past midnight when they finally arrive back in Colorado Springs. Sam is dozing against the cab window and wakes as the truck comes to an abrupt stop. Daniel is climbing out of the front seat, talking back at them quietly. "-drop Teal'c off at the base tomorrow. Don't worry about it."

Sam blinks heavily, her vision clearing as Teal'c turns to her, smiling. "Good night, Colonel Carter."

"Night, Teal'c." She leans over and gives him a quick hug. "See you on Monday."

He gives her a slight incline of his head before leaving the truck. Daniel waves at her as he grabs his duffelbag from the back. Teal'c is already half way up the walk to Daniel's small house and she loses sight of both of them as the door shuts. Her house is only a few blocks over, so she expects Jack to make a left when he reaches the end of Daniel's cul-de-sac. But he makes a right.

"It's the other-" she starts to point out.

"I know." His eyes meet hers again in the rear-view mirror. She doesn't need to ask where they're driving as he heads further south, away from the northeast suburbs where she and Daniel live. Down to where Jack's house is nestled in the trees at the base of the mountain.

It's dark and silent as he opens the door for her. It is an unfamiliar gesture. She's been in his house before, for barbeques and team-bonding time, but also for awkward and unwilling conversations. The last time she was here she stood on his back deck to pour her heart out, unknowing that Big-Boobs CIA was just inside. The memory of it makes her flush in embarrassment.

"Carter." Jack is looking at her, eyebrows raised as he pulls his grungy baseball cap off his head. "Watcha doin'?"

"Nothing." But she's looking to her left, where his living room sits lower to the ground.

"Quit biting that cheek of yours." She didn't even realize that she was doing it.

"Nervous habit."

Jack runs his arm around her shoulders. "I know," he sighs, tugging her into his chest. "C'mon. You're tired, I'm tired." He steers her down the hall, past the kitchen and to his bedroom. She'd only been in it twice before - neither time being particularly remarkable. It looked the same. Dresser, bed, nighttable, ensuite. Except there are no sheets on his bed. She is going to sleep in Jack O'Neill's bed. The thought makes her uncomfortably giddy, like a child about to break the rules.

"Damn," he sighs. "I forgot."

Sam frowns at the bed, then over at Jack. "Don't you have clean sheets?"

"Uh, no." His eyes avoid hers as he looks around the room.

"Well, we could…" She gestures around the room helplessly, then curiously. "Where are the old ones?"

"I threw 'em in the washing machine two weeks ago." He gives her a side-glance as he pulls his t-shirt off, tossing it unceremoniously on the floor.

"And… never washed them?"

"Nope. Slept on the base."

Sam quirks her head at him. "Why?"

"Oh, for…" He shifts his weight to his right side as he turns to look at her. He gives her his best annoyed squint as she gives him her best skeptical expression. She could tell he was about to cave, to give in and blurt out whatever it was that he didn't want to admit. He gave his tell-tale glance up before back at her. "The last time I slept in that bed it was with Kerry, alright?" His arm moves wildly as he speaks, gesturing to the naked mattress and then to the doorway. "I was trying to forget it ever happened…"

Sam blinks. "So should we burn it?" she asks dryly. Jack is still squinting at her, and she giggles. She takes a step forward, placing her hands on his upper biceps, where he's not as muscular as he once was, but his tanned skin is still smooth and taut. She drags her thumbs upward as she kisses his throat. "Jack, I just want to go to bed." She slips one hand between them, unbuckling the leather belt holding up his jeans. "Do I have to make that an order?" she teases.

There go the eyebrows again. "No, ma'am…"

She leans up and gives him a light kiss. "I wasn't joking about that little bonfire-" she laughs loudly as Jack grabs the offending hand on his belt, twisting it behind her back and tipping her onto the bed. She's already used to the warmth of his body, the roughness of his hands on her hips as he secures her to him. Maybe it's because she waited eight years, or maybe it's because it has been so long since she felt like this, but it's so easy to be with him. To link her ankles above his hips and lock her arms around his neck. He won't let her take control, so she lets him control her as he always has. She trusted him to make the right calls, order the right people, keep them safe… and he always did, one way or another.

They lie next to each other in the darkness, Sam's heart still beating rapidly though she'd already gone to the bathroom to pee. Blankets are nowhere to be found, but she doesn't want them, not when the sweat is still cooling on her body, making her shoulders and butt stick to the mattress. Jack's eyes are closed, but she can tell he isn't asleep yet.

She knows by this time next week he'll be in Washington. The US Air Force always transferred officers quickly. The paperwork had already been signed and filed and President Hayes had probably stamped it with his approval. Who would replace him? There were other generals, other people qualified for the post. What would she do then? Head out with Daniel and Teal'c to a hostile planet, except to come back to Earth and not see his thinly-vieled relief from the gateroom?

Maybe she should look for reassignment.

"Carter." Jack's voice rumbles through the room. "Quit thinkin' so loud."

"Sorry, Sir."

He lets out a troubled groan.

"Jack," Sam corrects herself, laughing briefly. She had a feeling she would never grow out of that habit.

It grew quiet in the room as she drifted off, the exhaustion from the travel and the days heavy in her bones. It seemed their lives were starting to calm, maybe even offering a glimmer of peace that neither of them had known the past eight years. Maybe the tension was lessening: that sinking, longing emotion that had settled between them once again after that contraband kiss in the infirmary. The dirt and the dust was settling, and Sam knew it was about time.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Colonel Carter, there's a call for you on the Secure Line 3." One of the young lieutenants pokes his head into her lab and she glances up from staring at her laptop.

"Thanks, Thompson." She gives him a small smile and he ducks his head back out before his blush becomes too evident. Sam considers whether or not to actually take the call. It was probably Cam again, trying to guilt-trip her into returning to the SGC. She had heard some of the reports coming from there, and Daniel had called to complain about Vala's incident with the bracelets. But she was busy… here… in Nevada. Area 51. She had her labs and her simulations and her tinkering with the new technology that the other teams were out gathering.

God, it was so boring.

Maybe she'd take the call. Give Cam another chance to grovel, then maybe she'd say yes.

She lifts her head off her hand, cracking her neck from the strained position. Her desk phone sits under a pile of incomplete reports and she hunts around for the receiver before punching in her secure code.

"Carter." She tries to sound authoritative, but really she just sounds annoyed. With a touch of boredom. Her usual tone as of late.

"Colonel."

Sam automatically sits up straighter in her cheap desk chair. "General!"

"Bad time, Carter?" Jack's voice was brisk, all business. Not that she expected otherwise. They could easily switch between modes, from Colonel and General, to the couple that had woken up in the same bed yesterday morning. The weekends were never long enough, although made a little easier with the help of the Asgard beam technology. Sam didn't feel _too_ guilty about the slight misappropriation of national resources.

"No, Sir!"

"Well, Carter, it seems we have a bit of a predicament." Jack's voice was light, a little too much. She could hear him swinging back and forth in his new office chair. They had christened it Friday night. She still has the bruise where she banged her knee on the desk.

"Sir?" she clarifies, clearing her throat to block the memory.

"Just a teeny one!" he gives her a falsely reassuring tone. "Just… go back to the SGC."

"What?" Sam can't keep the surprise out of her voice. "Sir, did Colonel Mitchell put you up to this?"

"Well… no. At least not this time."

Sam chews on the inside of her cheek. "Is this an order?"

"Not exactly… not… yet, anyway."

She sighs into the receiver. "Sir?"

"This is just a little heads up… Old friend to old friend… former CO to former 2IC… Ass-kickee to ass-kicker-"

"I get the picture, Sir," Sam interrupts, chuckling slightly. "Any idea when the order will be coming in?"

"I bet Landry's already done the paperwork. Within the hour, I'd say."

"Yes, Sir." She sullenly plays with the spoon of her long-forgotten dish of jello. Pineapple flavoured. It seemed the mess in Area 51 was adverse to blue-raspberry. She hated pineapple.

"Carter." Jack's voice snaps her back into reality.

"Sorry, Sir." She had left the line silent for an inappropriate amount of time, especially when talking to a Major General.

"Friday," he says into the phone firmly, as if to reassure both of them of something.

"Yes," she replies.

* * *

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following, etc! I love all of you for the support. Some version of this story had been floating around my head almost the last 10 years, and it feels good to finally have it out and done. Unfortunately, this fic is now complete and won't have anymore updates, but that's not to say I won't write more SamxJack sometime soon! ;)


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